


Once I could I control myself

by Icanseenow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous Relationships, Awkward Sexual Situations, Castiel Pines Over Dean Winchester, Drug-Induced Sex, Eventual Smut, First Time, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jealousy, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, POV Sam Winchester, Pining Sam Winchester, Possibly Unrequited Love, Recreational Drug Use, Sam Winchester hates parties, Smut, This is mostly Sastiel, Unrequited Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:19:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icanseenow/pseuds/Icanseenow
Summary: Castiel is still holding out hope for Dean to eventually return his feelings.Until then, he's just looking for pointers and some practice.Sam is not interested. Of course he's not interested. Until he is.Inhibitions gone, it becomes difficult to tell who's taking advantage of who.__________________________________________________________________________"Sam is willing to be used, for his own ends, and that makes all the difference."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this some time ago and wasn't too sure about uploading it (not just because I couldn't think of title and eventually just gave up), but I know there's like 5 other people on here who share my Sam/Cas obsession, who might appreciate it, flaws and all. 
> 
> So I had this weird urge to write trashy Sastiel smut, because there's never enough Sam/Cas and I got antsy from writing so much slow burn. But then I started writing this and it... got kinda weird and sad and slightly OOC. Basically you get all the intended bad writing but only 1/4 of the smut. Um, enjoy?

Sam's drunk as fuck and he can't for the life figure out why he ever thought that'd be good idea tonight. 

He remembers Dean pressuring him to let loose a bit. But then again, he always loves to tease Sam, does it all the time. Normally Sam just shrugs it off. 

»You've been nursing that beer for an hour now. You sure you don't want something stronger? I don't remember you being that much of a lightweight.« Dean tapped against the bar, impatiently waiting for his order. »Besides, it's a celebration. You remember those?«

He didn't really. 

He’d never gotten the hang of big celebrations. Things like Christmas, birthdays, New Year's. It hadn’t really been a part of his children and afterwards it’d been too late, apparently. He’d kind of just missed the boat there. 

Whenever he had tried to actively participate in stuff like that, it'd always ended in misery, a bad hangover or both. It really didn't seem worth it. 

This isn't even a real celebration, though. It's just a word Dean uses to hype up drinking in a third rate bar, as if getting wasted in company instead of by himself somehow fancied up his semi-alcoholism. 

It's just the end of a case that took them, what, three months to solve? Sure, he, too, is glad it's over, but he can't help but think of all the people they've failed along the way. If they'd been quicker, if Castiel had listened to their goddamn prayers earlier, this could have been over in one week, tops. 

Sam knows these thoughts are pointless. No point in crying over spilt milk, even if the milk had family and he's checked all their funeral dates online and read the obituaries like a maniac. The only logical reason he can think of for doing something like this is masochism (and that’s not really something he'd be willing to actively deny, if push came to shove). 

He slings back a shot and suddenly Dean's by his side again, saying something about going back to some girl's house and could Sam maybe get the car safely back to the motel. 

»What?« He wants to laugh but all that comes out is a spluttering of words. »I can't take the car, I'm wasted!« 

»Well, let Cas drive then.«

»What about you? How the hell are you getting back to the motel?!« 

»Uh... life finds a way.« Dean pats his back, grinning. »Thanks, man!« 

He leaves Sam with the keys to the Impala and some weirdly nostalgic flashbacks to lying on the carpet of some semi-permanent home, drinking cold chocolate milk and watching Jurassic Park. 

»Cas«, he says into his drink. There's no way he can hear him over the music and crowd of people talking, but there he is anyway. Next to his side. Where the hell has he been all night, Sam wonders, and immediately knows the answer: Staring at Dean like the sun shines out of his ass. 

»Sam«, he says, a curious look on his face. 

Sam pushes the car keys into Castiel's hand, which is surprisingly warm and soft. It feels kind of nice. He lets his fingers linger for a short moment. 

»You gotta drive me the motel. You're sober, right?«

»Yes. But I could take you there faster without the car.« 

»Dean wants us to take the Impala and get it back safely.« 

If there’s any part of this that doesn't make sense to Castiel, he's not showing it. 

It figures. Dean is Castiel's normal. He's his reference point for humanity. So maybe Dean abandoning them in this godforsaken bar and using him as a chauffeur for his drunk baby brother is just normal to Castiel, too. 

It's strange to sit in the car with him in Dean's place. Castiel’s a great driver, though. Better than Dean probably. Maybe all angels are smooth drivers. They're angels after all, supposedly molded into perfection by God himself. 

Then again, Sam muses, humans were supposed to be God's crowning achievement and look how well that turned out. 

Sam saunters into the motel room. For some reason Castiel is still there, when the door closes.

»Dean's probably not going to return tonight«, Sam says. 

Castiel shrugs. 

A violent nausea rolls over Sam. He runs to the bathroom. 

Within seconds the toilet bowl's all covered in vomit. 

His head is pounding like crazy. He doesn't really trust himself to get up again, in case more bile wants to find its way out. 

»Do you require my assistance?« 

Sam looks up reluctantly. 

Castiel stands next to the sink, his hands folded. Sam hadn't even noticed him entering the room.

»Were you watching me throw up?« He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. »What is wrong with you?«, he asks before he starts retching again. 

When he looks up the next time, Castiel is on the tiles next to him, his trench coat draped around him like a parody of a superhero cape. Which - Sam's not sure where that thought just came from. 

»What are you doing?« He has a vile taste in his mouth. He wants to get up to get a glass of water. He need some pain killers and he's pretty sure he remembers where Dean keeps them in his bag. 

Castiel slides over the tiles on his knees. It looks incredibly undignifying. 

He touches Sam's forehead and takes the pain away. 

»Thanks.«

He's not sure why he didn't even think of that. He wonders if Castiel only thought of it now himself, or if he'd just liked to watch him suffer a bit. 

»You're welcome.« 

Castiel doesn't pull away, instead he lets his hand slide over Sam's cheek and scoots even closer. 

Everything about this feels incredibly strange. The acidic smell coming from the toilet by their side, the cold tiles under his fingers, where Sam steadies himself on the floor, the unusual physical proximity. 

For a second Sam wonders if he's hallucinating, as Castiel pulls his face towards his and puts their lips together. 

He lets himself be kissed and even returns the motion, opens his mouth a little and pushes back. 

One of his hands find its way into Castiel hair, eddies it around his fingers, while his tongue is engulfed in a hot mouth. 

Until he realizes what is happening. 

He jerks his head back with sudden determination. 

»What the fuck? What was that?« 

Castiel looks at him blankly. 

»A kiss.«

»I know! I know that!« 

Sam runs a hand through his sweaty hair.

Castiel doesn't seem taken aback at all. 

»Why?«, Sam asks. 

It's not the most articulate question, but it's all he can muster up with right now. 

»I was curious«, Castiel finally says and gets up. »I haven't had much practice.«

The confusion is replaced by anger. 

»Practice?« 

Sam pushes himself off the floor as well. He's glad he's not really drunk anymore. He's also not fully sober, he really doesn't understand how this grace healing thing works. 

»Yes, I haven't had occasion to kiss many people before.« 

It’s upsetting being used for practice like that. But he's not sure why it makes him just as angry as it does. Castiel can be an utter idiot when it comes to human interaction. He probably has no idea how offensive his actions are. Really, Sam figures, this whole thing could be nothing but a funny anecdote in retrospect. He just needs to get over himself. 

Sam walks over to the sink and lets the cold water run. 

In the mirror he can see Castiel's confused look, and a lot of the anger dispenses. It's like being angry with a puppy that's pissed on the floor. Cas just doesn't understand. 

»Yeah well, give me a heads up next time, before you start assaulting me. Most people don't like to get kissed when they've just thrown up, either.« 

»Noted.«

Castiel nods, all serious, like he's really storing away that new tidbit of information somewhere. Out of all the places and all the times to choose from, he goes for this. 

Sam bows down to the sink and lets the water run over his face. He cups some in his hand and rinses his mouth. 

When he turns the water off, Castiel is still there. 

»What do you need practice for anyway?«

»I want to be prepared.« 

The answer takes Sam aback. 

Prepared for what? 

The question is on the tip of his tongue, but Castiel seems to think Sam already knows the answer, so he probably does. And – oh. 

»Dean?« 

It's less of a question and more of statement. 

Castiel doesn't reply. He looks somewhat coy now, hiding his hands in the pockets of his coat. 

So he's shy about his feelings for Dean, but sticking a tongue down Sam's mouth is fine. 

»I'm sorry if I have upset you«, Castiel says and that right there is the cherry on the icing of the shit sandwich that is this night.

»I'm not upset«, Sam says through gritted teeth. »Just not interested. And honestly, I have no idea how you got the idea that I could be.«

He shoves his way past him back into the motel room and then out through the front door. He goes to fetch himself a drink from the soda machine outside on the patio. 

When he returns to the room, Castiel is gone. 

They're not going to see each other again for weeks. 

Dean returns the next morning, hungover but happy. 

»Dude, why are you so... so wide awake?«, he groans as they leave the motel, shielding his eyes from the sun. »You were properly wasted last night, too.«

»Cas«, Sam says, as they walk over to the Impala. 

»Ah, right, he mojo-ed you back to life? Shit, I could use some of that angel magic right now.« 

They settle into the car and for a second, Sam considers telling him about last night. Maybe Dean would laugh about it. He'd definitely tease him. Sam would never hear the end of it. 

But that's not the main reason he's not going to tell. He could laugh along, sure, but really just thinking about last night makes him feel horrible. Honestly, it hurt. And that's doesn't indicate anything good. Not at least because of the whole thing with Castiel being completely smitten with Dean. 

He decides to try and forget about it. Store it far away in some dark corner of his mind, an oddity, a curiosity. He’s definitely not examine any of his own feelings about this. Because clearly, the only thing to possibly come out of this would be more hurt, confusion and awkwardness.

God, parties suck. 

»You okay, Sammy?«, Dean asks, as the engine roars to life. He throws him one of these »I'm worried about you but I'd still rather not talk, so just let me know everything's fine, please« looks and Sam obliges. 

»Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired.«

»Tell me about it.« Dean starts fumbling with the radio. »Last night was so worth it, though! That girl could do things with her mouth.« He whistles. »She was kinda crazy, to be honest. But you know what the say. Crazy in the head...«

Dean flips through the radio stations and continues his tales of sexual conquest in excruciating detail. 

Sam stares at the road ahead. He doesn't manage to block out his brother's voice, he almost never does. 

As Dean continues detailing body parts clashing and soft flesh being squeezed and man-handled, Sam can't help but think of how Castiel's lips felt. It’s a traitorous reminder that despite having been used as nothing but a puppet, despite how strange and wrong it was, he’d liked the kiss. 

Copper, he thinks.

Castiel tastes of copper and fire and electricity.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not just big celebrations he despises. Sam’s never really been a fan of parties of any kind. Sure, he’d attended a few in college, in an attempt to be normal, to appease his friends and Jess. But that didn’t mean he’d liked it. 

He's fine if it's just a few people and drinks. Relaxing and talking and shooting the shit. Everything else is just a hassle that is never worth it. 

This here, this is a full-grown _party_ , frills and all. Sam honestly has no idea how it came about, since they're in the Bunker and supposedly this is a secret place. Of course, it hasn't really been very much of secret to anyone in a very long time. This time it took a lot of people on their side to get Lucifer back in the cage, so it's even less of secret now. 

He understand the need to celebrate Lucifer's defeat, he really does. He's probably more relieved than anyone else in the word to know the devil's more or less safely locked away again. The past few months have been ruled by anxiety and sleep deprivation. His determination to get Lucifer out of the picture just always that little bit stronger than his fear of facing him again. 

It’s a understatement to say a huge burden is off his chest. So he gets the need to celebrate their win in some way or another. He just would have preferred to do it on his own terms. In his bed with some Netflix. Or with Dean and a few cold ones. Maybe even take a week off and drive out to a lake like Dean always claims they're going to and never do. 

Whatever he'd have preferred to do, he'd definitely not have chosen... _this_. 

He looks over at a guy with a long grey beard he's pretty sure he's never seen before in his life. He looks pretty wizzardy but maybe he's just a weirdo hunter. He's flipping through an old leather-bound book from the library. Getting his dirty beer-stained fingers all over the old pages, probably smudging the print. 

Sam's locked away the valuable and dangerous books beforehand, but still, he's suspects someone will steal something anyway. It's kind of unavoidable with a crowd this sketchy. 

Most parties have an easy way out. You get to leave at some point, long before it’s over. But this is the bunker and even in his room with the doors locked, he'd still know everyone else was here. He'd still hear them, too. 

He guesses he could take a walk outside, but it's January and it's freaking cold, and where is supposed to walk to anyway. He could take a car, but he's had a few and for some really dumb reason – trying to be more sociable? - he let himself be talked into smoking something, which he'd assumed to be pot when he'd accepted, but now is pretty sure was something else. Anyway, wasn't that woman a witch, too? He vaguely remembers her helping them with a spell a while back. Shit. He's pretty sure, smoking some unknown witchy herb is not a good idea. He definitely can't leave the bunker like this. 

He takes a sip from the craft beer that Garth brought with him. The flavor makes him wonder if maybe lycanthropy messes with your tastebuds. 

He sees Castiel and Dean entering the room. He's in such a bad mood, he can't help but feel disdain flicked up inside him, when he wonders what they’ve been up to. 

The past months have been fine, really, as far as the whole Castiel thing goes. Sam'd been so focused on Lucifer and his own dooming demise that he hasn't had much time for petty jealousy. Besides the occasional bouts of lust and anger followed by confusion and shame, working with Cas and having him around so much has been fine. 

Dean's been in an ecstatic mood the past few days. He shows it by happy-drinking (it’s more tolerable than the alternative) and by being more physical. He's hugged Sam three times already since they've locked Lucifer's away in the cage, which is more than in the past quarter of the year combined. 

He also lets Castiel closer into his space. The way they're standing now, it looks like Castiel's about to crawl into Dean, like he's filling up every little crack and nook of Dean's exposed body for as long as he's allowed to, because who knows when that privilege will get taken away again. 

And yeah – so maybe Sam's extrapolating a bit much here. But surely no one could look at these two right now and not see the glaring obvious devotion in Castiel's each and every movement. 

It reminds him of how shitty it felt to be asked for pointers by him, to be used by Castiel as a drill for the real thing. The thing is, it's kind of hilarious really, is that he could have said yes to being Cas' guinea pig and it probably wouldn't have helped Cas one bit in his conquest of trying to win not just Dean's affection (which he has, for all the word to see) but his physical intimacy as well. 

Dean sometimes lets Castiel get close like this. But he always retreats and shuts himself off before it gets further. He promises so much with his eyes and his smiles the way he says his name - »Cas!« - broad, heavy with meaning and underlined by a guess of desire. While Dean hints at all these things Castiel so clearly wants and thinks he needs, Sam's pretty sure this here is all Cas is ever going to get.

Dean's had so many years of opportunities and he's never taken them. This is never going to happen. Unless - 

Castiel's hand lingers on Dean's chest for a moment, where he's sure to feel Dean's roaring laughter vibrate in his finger tips. 

Sam decides to get closer to them. He elbows his way around a couple of hunters who voluntarily let themselves by possessed by some lower demons for the greater good of defeating the devil himself – good for them! - until he's just a few feet away from Dean and Castiel who seem absolutely absorbed in each other. 

»You really never watched it before?« Dean laughs and he doesn't push Castiel's hand away, instead he does a tapping motion against Castiel's chest himself. »Dude, you're missing out. I definitely need to show it to you sometime.« 

Castiel hikes up the corners of his mouth ever so slightly, that almost-smile that does something to Sam's insides that he can't quite explain. 

»I would very like to watch that movie with you, Dean.«

»It's really more of a trilogy. Not officially, but theme-wise it totally is.« 

Sam doesn't want to interrupt him but there's this strange urge, this need to be closer to Castiel, that makes him take another step forward. He doesn't understand it. Sure, he has more than complicated feelings for the angel who raised him from hell, took away his soul, gave it back, broke down the wall inside his mind. The man who drives him to madness but also took his madness on to save him. Who took Sam's pain and made it his, and - no one's ever done that before and no one ever will. 

Sam knows there's a complicated history from fawning over Castiel to hating him to being jealous of him, wanting him gone and wanting him close again. Saving him and being ready to kill him. He knows this emotional rollercoaster by heart now. And he recognizes lust, too. But this here feels different still. More urgent. More than anything it reminds him of being with Ruby and needing to be inside her now and tasting her blood now. 

A hand on his chest stops him. Irritated Sam looks up at the pale black-bearded face of someone in his mid-30s. His eyes are bloodshot and there's a slight tremor to his lips. 

»Are you feeling it yet?« 

His fist is clenched in Sam's shirt. 

»What are you talking about?«

»That stuff is insane.« 

Sam swabs the fist away easily. 

»I don't know what you're talking about, but you look like you could use a cold shower or a lie down.« 

»I saw you smoke it, too«, the guy says like an accusation and Sam finally understands. 

»What was that stuff?«, he asks, urgently. 

»I don't know! But it's insane! If I had that kind of witch dealer around I'd probably never get any hunting done, though. Are you feeling it, too?«

The guy looks disappointed when Sam shakes his head. 

»I don't feel anything. I just took one drag. Listen«, he gently shoves him out of his way. »I got to go. And you should really think about getting some rest, if you're not feeling well.« 

When he reaches them, Dean pulls him into a bear hug and Sam lets him be pulled closed. He can smell his brother's musky scent where his nose meets Dean's shirt and - maybe that's a bit weird. He's not normally one for noticing the way Dean smells, unless he's in desperate need of a shower. But it's not that this time. He smells... good. Enticing almost. 

_What the fuck._

Sam pulls away and looks at Dean. 

»What's wrong? You look a bit spooked, Sammy.« 

»I... I smoked some weird stuff.«

Sam regrets the honesty the second it's out of his mouth. 

»What?« Dean immediately starts laughing out loud. »College boy reliving his glory years?«

»Shut up«, he mutters. »I thought it was just weed.«

»Yeah. Like that explains shit. Since when does Mr Goody Two-Shoes smoke anything?«

He wants to reply something harsh, but when he glares at his brother all he sees are hard-edged cheekbones, soft skin and lush lips. He gets why Cas would want this, he really does.

Holy shit! So that’s what that guy was talking about. He's definitely feeling some kind of effects now. What kind of weird stuff is this? He remembers being fascinated by his hands before, but definitely never by Dean's luscious pink lips. 

He tears his gaze away from his brother and turns towards Castiel instead. If the weird stuff he's just been feeling towards his brother was attraction, then this here is whole another ballgame. 

Castiel looks perfect. An angel chiseled out of marble. His black muzzles hair, rebel-like, all over the place. These incredibly blue eyes. 

It takes everything in his power not to reach out and run his hands over Cas' soft cheek.

The memory of the taste of Cas' lips is so present right now, he's practically re-living every second of their kiss. It's coming back to him like a vision, violently and undeniable. 

Castiel cocks his head to the side, exposing a bit more of his delicate neck. He's definitely never had the urge to dive in and just… bite down, lick along his collarbone and taste every inch of his skin.

»Sam.« Castiel sounds slightly worried. »Do you feel okay?«

»I feel great.« 

He can tell how husky his voice sounds. 

»Dude«, Dean laughs. »What the hell was that shit you were smoking? Where did you get it from? You're staring at Cas like he's the second coming.« 

Sam tries to pull himself together. 

He closes his eyes and counts to ten. His breathing gets less ragged and his heart is beating not quite so fast, when he opens his eyes again. 

»I'm okay«, he says. »Really.« 

»I'm going to get you a glass of water«, Dean says and takes the beer out of his hand. 

Then he's gone and Sam is alone with Castiel, who has the same concerned look on his face and who doesn't say anything. And shit, this is worse than being a pre-teen again, overwhelmed by desire. He's nervous, aroused, confused. 

Sam puts his slightly sweaty hands inside his pockets, but has to pull them out again once Dean's back. 

And Dean is back much too quickly. 

He hands him the glass of water and Sam gulps it down. It's icy cold and it hurts going down his esophagus. But it seems to actually help a bit, forces him to concentrate on the pain instead of all the other body parts that are trying to get his attention. 

Sam gives the glass back. 

»Better?«, Dean asks. 

»Yeah. It's just... the air is kind of stiff in here.«

»It's a bunker«, Dean says like he's an idiot. For good reason, because Sam feels like one, too. 

It's fine, he tells himself. It's fine. He counts to ten again, breathing in and breathing out, before looking back at Castiel. He's still incredibly hot, but looking at him is easier now. He can keep his hands to himself. 

Sam turns to Dean and yes, his brother is an attractive man anyone would be lucky to be with (no, he needs to make sure to erase this sentence out of his memory), but it's fine now. Dean's just Dean. Maybe a bit shinier, maybe a bit... _more Dean_. 

»Great party«, Sam says. 

Dean laughs again.

»It really is. I'm glad I could convince you.«

»You didn't really give me a choice.«

»Well...« Dean laughs again. He puts his arm around Castiel and pulls him close to his side. »Even Cas is enjoying himself tonight. Aren't you?«

»I am«, Castiel says, no muscles in his face showing any sign of emotion. But when Dean pulls him closer for a second just before he lets go, there's this glean in Castiel's eyes when he considers Dean. 

It hurts. And it's hot. And it's very confusing for Sam, because Dean acting like he hasn't seen it himself… it actually makes Sam angry. 

Look at yourself, Sam wants to scream. Look at yourself and then look at Castiel, and then find yourself a room and figure this stuff out like you were supposed to do years ago. You're offered everything on a silver plate and you're too scared to take this shit for some bullshit reasons only you care about. 

It were one thing, if Dean wasn't interested at all. But he so clearly is. He's just scared and not able to admit that he wants this for a million different reasons. Internalized real men soldier bullshit from their father right on top of the list, if Sam had to guess. 

»You could have dressed a bit more casual though«, Dean says, takes Castiel's tie between his fingers and twists it around. 

»I am always dressed like this«, Cas says. He looks down at the fingers on his chest and then into Dean's face. 

»Oh!« Dean suddenly says, swirling his head around. »There she is!« 

Sam can't make out who he's talking about it. 

»I swear I had a good thing going back there when I got your water, Sam. If I'm right, this night is going to get even better now! Don't wait for me!«

He's gone into the crowd before either of them can reply. 

Castiel doesn't even blink, his face is blank again, but there's got to be something going on in that vast angel mind of his. 

»Does it hurt?«, Sam asks. »To see him do that?«

Castiel raises an eyebrow. 

»To see him do what?«

»To flirt with you, only to run off to have sex with some random woman.«

Castiel has a curious look on his face, as he ponders the question. Maybe he considers denying the flirtations. 

»Yes«, he finally says. »But not more than usual.«

Sam looks into the crowd and tries to make out Dean's head in the midst of the brown, black, blonde, red and and grey hair. 

»Are you still holding out hope? After all those years?«

»I have been alive for centuries, the waiting has not been very long in comparison. Besides, I relish the time I get to spend with him, in whatever capacity.«

»So that's your plan?« Sam takes hold of Castiel's tie and straightens it. »Just wait it out? Wear him down? You know he's not going to live forever.«

»We don't know that.«

»Right. He's not going to want to have sex with you when he's 80, you know.«

»Sam.« His voice is stern now. »Why are you asking me all of this?«

»You deserve better.«

He steps closer. 

»What are you saying, Sam?«

»He's never going to change his mind like that.« Sam puts a hand on Castiel's shoulder, feels how close they're really standing now. »He needs some sort of incentive, you know.«

»I do not understand what you're saying.«

»He needs to understand you're not safely his. You've given everything up for him, haven't you? You've made mistakes, sure, pretty bad ones, but we all have. Ultimately you've devoted your celestial existence wholly to him. He knows you're his.« 

Castiel doesn't seem to get where he's going with this. 

»He needs to understand that you can be taken from him! That you have other options. I'm not saying it would definitely work. But the way you're feeling now, watching him run off...« He looks back into the direction Dean's headed off to. »If he could feel that, too, it might be easier for him to understand. I know Dean better than anyone and if he understands one thing it's how to fight. He needs a reason to fight for you.«

»And what reason would that be?« 

Sam licks his lips. 

His heart is beating faster again, but this time he doesn't try to control it. 

»You remember when you asked me to practice with you?«

»Of course, I remember.« Castiel wrinkles his forehead. »You made it clear that you were not interested.« 

»Right«. He wets his lips again. »What if I've changed my mind?«

Castiel seems genuinely perplexed. 

»You wish to kiss me? Here? Now? We're in the middle of a room full of people.«

»Exactly.« 

Sam lets his hand run from Castiel's shoulder to his neck. 

»People would see.«

»Yeah.« Sam nods. »That's the whole point.« 

Finally, after an excruciatingly long pause, Castiel says: »I see.« 

Sam doesn't have time to lean it before Castiel surges forwards and locks their lips. 

He tastes different now. A cross between a freshly lit match and a wet mossy forest floor. He wonders if, with enough time, he could explore the taste of the whole universe within him. 

Sam has him against the door in a second, his whole body leaning into Castiel's, his fingers in his hair and his tongue exploring the depth of his mouth. 

His eyes are closed but he can feel the people around them staring, can hear the gasps. He doesn't mind being watched while they kiss, but he needs more of Castiel. He needs for them both to shed the pointlessly huge amount of clothing between their bodies. He needs more skin and more fiery wet forest. 

There's a certain amount of confusion in Castiel's eyes, when Sam takes a step back. 

He feels a stab in his heart and he's not sure if it's Castiel's apparent uncertainty about the whole thing, the fear of rejection or the fact that Cas is only doing this in hope of getting something else out of it. 

But he's not just using him. Sam is willing to be used, for his own ends, and that makes all the difference. 

Really, it's a win-win situation, he tells himself. Two people using each other for their own benefit is no reason for a bad conscience. 

Sam has always had complicated, a bit contradictory feelings towards Castiel. They're similar people in a lot of respects. He sees a lot of himself in the fallen angel - and he's not willing to expend too much mental power to figure out what that says about his self perception. 

One of the things he loves about Cas is his unbound curiosity about all things human. And if this here, whatever they're doing right now, isn't quintessentially fucked up and human, than Sam doesn't know what is. 

Still, there's a second of hesitation from both of them, when Sam takes hold of Castiel's hand. It seems small, almost childlike in his own big paw. It’s an unsavory reminds him too much of a something wolf-like corrupting innocence for comfort. 

There is nothing innocent about this man, about this angel. 

The sheer amount of just and unjust deaths he's responsible for alone. 

Sam thinks there's something very, very wrong with himself, because the thought of victorious and bloodlusty Castiel is apparently a turn on for him right now, too. He shoves the doubts away, goes in for another short but aggressive kiss, before he pulls him through the crowd towards the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam holds onto Castiel's hand tightly. 

They walk away from the epicenter of the party, the crowd noticeably thinning. It’s not like he cares about who's watching and what they might be thinking. Except for one person. 

Just when they're just about to enter Sam's room, he finally sees him on the other side of the hall. 

Dean's leaning against the wall, turned towards a woman. The one he was so eager to get to or maybe someone else. She’s talking excitedly, her hands accentuating her words, but there's no way Dean's listening to her any longer. It's not just irritation or perplexity on his face, it's sheer terror. Within this short moment, Dean looking at Sam and Sam looking back, Dean understands. 

To his own horror, Sam’s lips form a smile that must look contorted, wicked even. It feels wrong, no matter the intention, he’s doing everyone a favor after all, and the cause of his actions. Being high is maybe an excuse for the amplification of , it’s not even an explanation of why he wants this in the first place. It 

He makes sure to not loosen the grip on Castiel's hand, as he pulls him into his room, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. 

He slams the door close and immediately pushes Castiel against it. 

For a person who claims to desperately need practice, he's certainly not a bad kisser. What he lacks in finesse, he makes up for in eagerness. 

Without breaking their kiss, Sam pushes off Cas' trench coat and starts fumbling with his tie, but lets go soon after. He doesn't have time for this. He needs to feel more skin immediately. 

He knees Castiel's legs apart while he extracts his shirt out of his trousers. It's cumbersome work. 

Finally, Castiel gets the memo, and starts helping. He takes off his shirt and his tie, and lets it all fall down carelessly next to the door. Somehow Sam would have thought him more of a stickler for order and rules, but he doesn't mind being wrong. The faster he's undressed the better. 

Sam helps him with trousers, they push them down together, and there's something weirdly hot about Cas' hands on his, sliding down the sides of his legs. 

Cas steps out of the trousers, kicks them away violently, like the thought of clothes alone repulses him. 

Sam forces himself to take in the image. Castiel standing before him, only in his briefs, breathing heavily, waiting for him. Offering himself up. 

It's only when he kisses him again that he realizes how fully dressed he still is himself. It's frustrating. He licks over Castiel's lips, pushes their noses together and presses his loin against his, while he tries to untangle himself from his shirt. They're too close together for this to work properly. 

He fumbles around some more until, finally, Castiel is fed up. He pushes at Sam’s shoulders, shoves him away just a tiny bit and reaches for his belt buckle. 

In a matter of seconds Sam is down to his boxer shorts. There's warm hands on his chest, the right one directly on his tattoo, shoving him backwards into his bed. It's a movement that seems so poised and self-assured, that it makes Sam wonder how Cas could ever think he's in need of any kind of practice. He knows exactly what he's doing. 

»Have you ever done this before?«, Sam breathes raggedly, as Castiel straddles him. »With a man, I mean?«

»You know I have not.« 

It looks like Castiel is rolling his eyes at him, but Sam doesn't find it in him to care, when Cas pushes his groin against his hard-on. 

Sam's gasp is muted by a hot, wet mouth, that yet again tastes different. 

A sundown on a deserted island. 

It makes no sense, but it doesn't cheapen this experience one bit. The palm trees, the coarse grains of sand, the salty sea water. 

He wants to know all the facets there are to him, the tastes, the sounds, the touches. 

His hands get ahold around the back of Castiel's neck. He pulls him even closer still until their teeth clash. 

He wants to do what he's seen him do to Dean, try to dive into every part of his being and just. Not. Let. Go. 

With a swift motion he turns them both around, so he's on top, pressing the angel deep into the mattress. 

Castiel watches him curiously, as Sam slowly start grinding against him. His expression softens and the crease in his forehead disappears. His mouth forms an unspoken »O«. He's fully hard now, too. 

Sam slides back until he's bridging the lower part of Castiel's legs. 

Cas lifts his head in protest of the loss of immediate touch. 

Sam's fingers dive under the waistband of Castiel's briefs and push them over his hips. He takes him in whole. Cas hisses and falls back into the pillow. 

Sam's surprised by how normal this feels, considering he's only ever done this once in college. He's no expert but he figures whatever he likes will probably, hopefully, feel good for Castiel, too. The way he's wriggling under his touch seems testament to that notion. 

Sam dives up, wraps his right hand tightly around Castiel's base and moves it up and down the shaft slick with his spit. 

He is not much of a talker when it comes to sex. He's not sure what about this makes him want to ask Castiel all of the questions. Maybe because this is supposed to be a teaching moment, a practice. After all, this is the way he weaseled himself into the position of giving a hand job to a celestial being. He doesn't want to mess this up. And at the same time, he just feels this need to hear Castiel's voice, to make this more real. He wonders if later he’ll blame any of this on the drugs, too, more than just the lowered inhibitions and a heightened level of appreciation for the body in his hands. 

»Has someone done this to you before?«, he asks in lieu of all the other things he needs to know. 

Castiel just nods. 

It's childish sense of jealousy that roars inside Sam's chest. 

He halts, slowly rubs pre-cum over the top, watching Castiel’s face for a reaction. 

»Does it feel good?«

Castiel nods again. Apparently it's not that easy to get to hear his voice. 

Sam forms a fist. This time he's pressing down stronger, until he can hear Castiel hitch a breath. It's a noise, at least. 

He knows the doors aren't soundproof, but he's sure it's still a frequency too low to hear outside the room. 

He could make him come like this, with his hand alone. It would be satisfying in a way. But it would be over too soon. He doesn't want to let go yet. He's all but certain this won't ever happen again. Why would it? If Dean's jealousy - and he is jealous, he will be - is actually going to change something and let him open up to Castiel, then Cas gets what he always wanted. And if it's not going to change anything for Dean, then Castiel still has no reason to repeat this, either. It'd be clear then, that this is not going to get him what he wants. 

Castiel has no interest in him as such.

Sam pulls his hand away. 

Castiel looks at him, curiously, a bit upset. 

Whatever drove Sam here, it's waning now. 

This is insanity. 

It's better if it stops now, it's - 

Castiel suddenly sits up. He puts his arms around Sam's back and pulls his hips towards him, until he's straddling him. His naked hard wet cock presses against Sam's groin, leaving stains on his underwear. 

Why is he still wearing underwear? 

Castiel seems to be wondering the same. 

»Why are you still not fully undressed?« 

It's not that much of a sexy sentence, but muttered in Castiel's low voice it makes Sam forget about his doubts. Yes, this is insanity, but it doesn't make him want it any less. 

It's easy sometimes to forget how strong Castiel is just by looking at him. He turns Sam's body around with no effort at all. 

Suddenly Sam finds himself on his back, fully exposed. He can't remember Castiel pulling his boxer shorts off, but surely he must have, otherwise - Oh. 

He closes his eyes, when he feels a tongue on him. He opens them again, because he needs to see, needs to see everything about this. He needs to brand this image into his memory, so he'll be able to come back to this. If not ever in reality, than at least in thought. 

Castiel looks up at him through thick black eyelashes, while he glides up and down his length. 

It's a carbon copy of devotion. It's not real, but it looks real and it feels real. 

He's getting a sloppy blowjob from an angel. 

No, better. He's getting a sloppy blowjob from Cas. 

He remembers he's supposed to be a teacher of sorts. He wants to be of value. His fingers glide into Cas' hair, holding him there, slowing him down. 

Castiel doesn't break eye contact, while he adapts his movement the way Sam likes it. 

Angels probably don't have gag reflexes, Sam thinks, as he hits the back of Cas' throat. It's the last coherent thought he has for a while.

He moans, almost in pain, as his hips move upwards to find the right rhythm. 

He wants to close his eyes but he will not. The intense stare is exactly what makes this almost unbearably good. Teeth are grazing him and it hurts a bit, but he's never been averse to this kind of pain. 

»Cas. Fuck - Cas.«

He's never been a name-moaner either, but apparently he is now. Maybe this, too, is the urge to make it seem more real. 

Castiel pulls away, with a sudden jolt he sits upright on the bed. 

»What's wrong?«, Sam asks, raspy-voiced.

He shouldn't have said his name, he understands. 

Castiel eyes him worriedly. 

»Did you not want me to stop?« 

»No... No, I definitely did not want you to stop...« 

»I thought I might have done something wrong.«

»No, you -« Sam sits up as well, propping himself up on one arm. He stretches out the other and takes ahold of Cas' shoulder. His thumb strokes over the hot skin. »It felt great. It felt amazing. For me anyway.«

»It felt strange for me«, Castiel admits. 

»Oh.« Sam doesn't know what to say to that. »You shouldn't do anything you're not comfortable with.« 

Castiel blinks at him. 

»I want to learn.« 

Sam can feel himself go soft. 

»I don't want to do this if you're not enjoying it at all.« Sam inches away, sits back against the headboard. Now more than ever he hopes that their voices don't carry through the door. He doesn't want anyone to hear this. It's not just embarrassing, it hurts. »You know, it doesn't mean you won't enjoy it with someone else.« 

He tries to smile, but he knows how bitter he sounds. 

Castiel's forehead creases. 

»I didn't say I wasn't enjoying myself. Only that it felt strange. Unusual.«

On his knees Castiel shuffles forward and closes the gap between their bodies. He takes Sam's face in his hand and kisses him deeply. The taste of them both mingle in their mouths. Sam doesn't find it in himself to care. His tongue dives deep into Castiel's mouth, while he's softly pulling his hair. 

Castiel's muffled moan makes him forget about his insecurities again. They both want this. Dean or not. Maybe Cas himself, the real Cas, is undecided how he feels about this, but his body isn't. 

His hands move frantically over Sam's body, as if he's not sure where to touch first. 

»Slow down...«, Sam says. »We don't have to hurry.« 

Castiel halts and then nods. 

They lie down again. On their sides, facing each other. 

Castiel's mouth yields easily against the press of his tongue. Sam's index finger brushes over the soft skin of his flank. Cas shudders slightly, as he bites down on his lower lip and presses his body close to Sam's. He throws a leg over Sam's, drawing him in. 

His hand wanders down Sam's back, lower and lower until he lets it rest on his butt cheek. Sam mirrors the motion, while they're slowly grinding against each other. 

There's something in Castiel's touch that feels like an angelic reverb, a memory of grace – or maybe this is just how it feels to be touched by Castiel when he's needy and horny. 

He's insanely attracted to Cas right now, more than he remembers ever being before not just to him but to anyone, ever - and that is definitely weird. He has to figure out what that witchy herb was and if this is really him who wants this so bad. 

If the self-doubt is any indicator to go by, this very much feels like the real Sam. He hates that he’s thinking practical thoughts, that take him out what's happening right here right now. It feels best when he's not thinking at all. 

Castiel's tongue probes deeply into his mouth and causes Sam to press his pelvis even harder against him. His bed is going to be a mess after this. He has visions of cleaning the sheets while Dean is out, because otherwise, this could become awkward. Possible more awkward than fucking the man Dean's in love with (which, sure, he's never admitted to, but come on). 

While Dean knows it's happening. 

It should make him recoil, but instead the wrongness of it all eggs him on further. 

Castiel doesn't move like this is his first time with a man. Maybe it's instincts. Maybe it's watching humans for millennia. Or he's tried to prepare himself for Dean is other ways. He can picture Castiel studying the whole sex thing like a serious scholar, over a bunch of books and with instruction videos. It's a cute thought, and it should probably feel stranger for Sam to think of the words Cas and cute together. Especially right now. 

There's nothing cute about the way his fingers curl around Sam's dick now, making him groan. 

Sam's hand that's been resting between Castiel's butt cheeks starts moving. When he pushes a finger in, carefully, Castiel makes a surprised sound and lets go of Sam. 

»This probably also feels weird at first«, Sam says in a low voice, his mouth just inches away from Cas' pink-blotched face. »You can always tell me to stop. But if you relax... it's going to feel good. Okay?«

Castiel licks his lips, he seems unsure. 

Sam lets go and lets his hand rest on Castiel's hip. 

»You can trust me, Cas. I wouldn't...«

He's not sure what he wouldn't do. If someone would have told him yesterday, that this is how he'd spent the night, he would have called them more than just a little crazy. He’s not sure what else he has in him. If he cares to find out. 

There's confusion in Castiel's eyes, as he nods. 

»Of course I trust you, Sam.«

»I don't have anything«, he suddenly realizes. This dry spell has been going on for over a year. He's not prepared for an overnight visitor. Sam furrows his brows. »I don't want to hurt you.«

»You cannot hurt me.«

»Right... but I don't have any protection, either.« 

He's ruining this, he can tell. He's ruining this, when ever fiber in his body needs this to happen and needs to be right (he doesn't know why and he doesn't want to spend too much time thinking about it, because surely overanalyzing will ruin it, too). 

»Oh, I see«, Castiel says. »This is also not necessary.«

He doesn't explain, but if Sam would have to guess, it's probably some angel thing. And yeah, this is definitely better than having to go outside and asking Dean for help - although a part of him sure would love to see that expression on his brother's face. 

Maybe Castiel has more control over his body because of his grace and can command his muscles to relax - but if he had any control over his body, why would he shiver and twist under Sam's touch? 

For whatever reason, Castiel yields easily for him as one finger because two, and Sam's thoughts are becoming more incoherent by the second. 

They're still kissing, intense wet kisses that aren't like anything Sam would have expected from the other, when Sam hits the point that extracts a noise from Castiel he's not heard before. A surprised yelp that so loud, everyone is the bunker with two functioning ears probably heard it. In a normal situation, as if anything about this were normal, he'd feel shame, but right now all he feels is good. 

He's the one making Castiel feel this way. He's the one responsible for the spaced-out look on his face and it makes him feel proud, like he's exceeding his own expectations. 

When he pulls his fingers out and shoves Castiel's leg from his, Castiel protests. 

»I'm not going anywhere, I swear«, he promises, before planting a quick kiss onto his lips. 

Castiel lets himself be moved and turned around easily, once he's certain Sam is really not leaving but just positioning himself on top

The movement is more forceful than intended and there's an urge to apologize. But Castiel moans out loud as he's pushed into the sheets. Sam realizes there's probably no reason to be this careful. Sam cannot possibly hurt him physically beyond anything Castiel's not willing to take. In a second he could smite him if he wanted to. (Hell, why is _this_ a turn on, too?)

He's trailing kisses over Castiel's back, kisses his spine upwards, while he prepares him. 

He feels like he's been waiting for this so long now, that when he tentatively moves into him, he finds it difficult to go slow. It's even more difficult when Castiel starts making these low, impatient sounds in the back of his throat. 

Sam's hand lands on Castiel's hips. They groan in unison, as Sam is finally able to move further. 

»Fuck.« 

The noises Castiel makes are fucking beautiful. His tightness around him feels incredible.

He janks Cas' hips upwards into the air. If it hurts, he's not showing it. 

But the way he's moaning... These are moans of pleasure, Sam is sure. 

They move in unison. Sam takes ahold of Cas' erection, because - shit, he knows he's not going to last much longer. He wishes for release, but more than anything he doesn't want this to stop. 

He falls forward, his chest coming against Castiel's back. One hand jacking him off, the other holding him tight around his chest. 

Dean is missing out. 

He shouldn't be thinking these thoughts, but he can't help it, when this whole thing here wouldn't even be happening without Dean. And really, his brother should be thanking him instead of being angry because, yes, he'll be more than furious. He's not sure why he hasn't even considered the gravity of just how much Dean will hate him for this. 

»Sam…«

It's a slow, painful moan, but not a complaint. 

He wonders if Dean will give him the silent treatment and act like nothing happened or he will lash out. Either way, Dean will hate him for this. He's hating him right now. He's fucking furious. 

»Oh God«, Sam groans loudly. He puts his mouth against Castiel's shoulder to muffle his own voice. His teeth clash with the sweaty skin underneath. »Fuck. You feel so good.«

He's just stating the obvious but Castiel seems to respond to his voice, mumbles something in return. If he'd known that Cas likes this, being talked to, he wouldn't have been so goddamn quiet, wouldn't have held back at all. 

»You feel so good«, he repeats. »You're doing so well.« 

He wants to say more. 

'Dean will love this'. 

He almost says it, despite how fucked up it would be. He doesn't say anything. It's too much of a promise he can't give.

Even if Dean would get over himself because of this, he sure as hell won't feel grateful to him. He'll probably think Sam took advantage, corrupted Castiel, when nothing could be further from the truth. 

The way Castiel bucks up against him alone makes it clear how much he wants it. 

»Sam«, he moans again. He repeats his name a few times, begs him. »Sam, I-«

Sam can feel him shudder underneath and around him, as he comes into his hand. 

If he hadn't been trying to pace himself already, if he hadn't been close to edge for so long already, the loud and surprised sound that escapes Cas' mouth would be enough to get him there. 

»Oh God«, he breathes into Cas' skin. When the orgasm takes over, he bites down, in an attempt to quiet himself. 

»I'm sorry«, he mumbles, shortly after, as he pulls himself out. He puts a hand over the red bite mark. »I didn't mean to.«

Castiel's voice is small and tired. 

»You cannot hurt me.«

Sam nods, hazy, and pulls up one corner of his mouth. 

»Yeah. Almost forgot.«

His head feels light while the rest of his body is pulled down strongly by gravity of the mattress. He fights the urge to close his eyes as he rolls off, he won't let the sleepiness take completely over. 

Beside him, Castiel lifts his head from the pillow. 

Sam has never seen him like this. His eyes glazed over by happy exhaustion. 

He tries to burn the image into the back of his mind. 

Whatever else happened, however fucked up this was, this is his.

Castiel smiles at him, softly, tiredly. This smile and whatever Sam thinks to read in it - gratitude, amity, fondness, surprise, among other things - it’s only meant for him. He's never going to let anyone take it away again. No fucking way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. Thanks for reading along. This story ended up being weirdly fun to write, I hope you got something out of it too. I got both the response "This is trashy and hot!" as well as "This is fucking tragic and sad", so every reaction is valid (including negative ones of course).

When Sam stretches out his hand to cup Cas' cheek, he half-expects him to shrug him off.

Castiel continues to smile. 

»That was very educational.«

It should hurt, instead it makes Sam chuckle. He's still buzzing with touch and hormones. 

»Educational? That's all?«

»I was only lauding your teaching skills.«

»Well...« He runs his finger over Cas' pink lips. »Right back at you. You're a pretty fast learner.«

»Thank you.«

He feels a lot more timid than he has all evening, when he inches forward to plant a kiss on Castiel's lips. 

»Apart from the whole 'educational purpose', was it - I mean, was it okay? Are we okay?«

»I can't tell if we both are okay. Are you?«

It's a very good question. 

»It was...« Sam shifts closer to him. He tries to figure out how he feels, besides completely exhausted and still post-coitally blissed out. »I really enjoyed it.« 

»As did I. It was... very different to my other sparse sexual encounters.«

»Because of the whole-« Sam gestures from his chest to Castiel’s. 

»Not because of your gender or sex, no. It was...« He scrunches up his forehead, he's thinking hard. »I don't know. It was different.« 

»It was, uh, pretty intense«, Sam admits. He’s not sure if that’s even close to what he’s trying to get at. 

He trails a finger over the reddened skin, where his teeth have left their mark. 

»I know you said I can't really hurt you, but I hope it wasn’t… too much?«

»No. I enjoyed the carnal actions as a whole.« He pauses. »I just wonder, why did you blaspheme?« 

»What?«

Castiel narrows his eyes. 

»You were taking the lord's name in vain several times. It was the only thing I found somewhat distracting.«

»Sorry.« Again, this feels mostly absurd and amusing. »I wasn't. I didn't mean anything by it.«

»I see.« He nods, seriously. »Somehow it reminded me of how low I have fallen, to share this bed with you.« 

He must be able to tell by Sam's face that he said the wrong thing. 

»I don't consider this an example of my wrong-doings«, he explains. »I just meant that's what my brethren would think. I don't know what my father would think of this-«

»Well.« Sam lies back, using his arm as a cushion. »You were doing it out of love, weren't you? For Dean, I mean? Wouldn't God approve of actions from genuine love?«

»Not foolish actions, no. However, it is often very difficult to know what he'd approve of and what he'd not, as you know.« 

»Right, but love-«

»I don't think it is true to say I am lying here simply because out of love for your brother.«

»No?« 

Sam's heart, having only just settled into a it's normal pulse, starts beating harder again. 

»No. There's salaciousness, curiosity, pride... I am not completely certain, but I'm sure my intentions weren't as pure as you make them out to be. But thank you for trying to uplift my spirits.«

»Cas....« 

It's not that this is really more out there than the sex, but still, Sam feels foolish, when he puts his arm around Castiel and pulls him close to his side. His skin is warm and sticky against him and there's a noticeable wetness pressing against his hip. 

Castiel falters for a moment, before he puts this arm around Sam's middle. He looks up at him questioningly.

»Is this customary?« 

»Is what customary?« 

Castiel fingers brush over his lower abdomen. 

»This physical intimacy after the act.«

»It is when you have feelings for each other. I guess.« Sam swallows hard. »So probably something you should know, if you want to, you know, be prepared.« 

»It seems I still have a lot to learn.«

Sam blinks. 

It sounds like a question, a suggestion, but Castiel can't mean it like that. Despite the searching look in his eyes, it’s probably just a general statement. An observation and not an offer for a repetition. 

»Yeah.« 

It's a bit too late for second and third thoughts now, but now, once the floodgates are opened, they come anyway. The feeling of guilt rushes in alongside. What has he been thinking?

Sam pulls his arm out under Cas' head. 

He realizes he needs to clean up, but he has to dress before he can walk into out on the corridor. 

He can definitely forget about the boxer shorts, they're a mess. 

He finds some tissues on his bedside table. 

»I can take care of this«, Castiel says, but somehow the thought of him cleaning them both off with just a tip of his finger is worse. Making the whole thing magically disappear like it'd never happened in the first place. 

Logically, it would be good, but it would feel even worse. 

Sam finds his jeans and hastily pulls them over his legs. He picks up his shirt near the door. 

When he turns, he finds Castiel already dressed. 

»Sam. You seem upset.« 

Even Castiel's tie is back to how it was before, slightly askew like always. 

He looks like nothing happened.

»I'm not upset. Just-«

He halts for a second, even stops himself from buttoning up his shirt. His fingers lingering on the cotton.

Castiel cocks his head to the side. 

»Did I do something wrong?« 

»No. You're...« He grimaces. »You're good to go.« 

Castiel nods with a minimum amount of movement. 

»I am very thankful to you, Sam.«

The last button on his shirt is giving him some trouble. 

Castiel puts his hand on Sam's fingers, pushes them softly into his shirt. 

»Your hand is shaking.«

»Dean-«, Sam croaks. 

He looks up into Castiel's eyes and they're still the same intense blue as before. 

He knows he's not feeling any kind of witch drug right now. If any of his actions were ever driven by that in the first place, he's certain they're not now. 

Sam swallows hard. 

Feelings are bad. Feeling like this is not okay. 

The sex he'll be able to talk away. 

Dean and him, they'll fight about it. He'll be pissed as Sam, but he's forgiven him worse, hasn't he? ( _Has_ he?)

But this, what he's feeling now, with Cas' hand right above his heart, he can't just talk that away. 

He'll have to try, anyway. 

Sam doesn't say anything else.

He gives an apologetic smile towards Castiel and tears his eyes away from him, because the urge to kiss him again is becoming unbearable. 

Sam touches door handle. 

»I hope I was right«, he says. »That eventually this will be good for you and Dean.« 

It's not a lie, but it feels like a weak attempt to rationalize his actions. As if he just had the best sex of the past years just out of good will to his friend and his brother. Because he's such a good person and not the mess that he really is. 

He opens the door in a swift motion. He tries to step through it quickly, but Castiel is close behind him. He has his hand on Sam's shoulder, before they're even fully out of the room.

»Sam, you-«

He's half-expected to see Dean in the hallway, and, really, earlier in the night, he'd hoped to see him there. It seems foolish now. What had he thought this would prove to his brother, besides that he apparently didn’t mind being second choice. 

Now that Dean is actually here, leaning against the other side of wall, having to face him feels horrible. 

Castiel doesn't finish his sentence. He, too, seems taken back by Dean's presence. 

Dean eyes them both with an unreadable look on his face. He studies them. Somehow this is much worse than anger or mocking words could ever be. 

»Dean«, Castiel says in a soft voice. Without having to turn to him, Sam knows that the angel's smiling. It hurts somewhere deep down. 

»Hey Cas.« Dean's voice wavers, but it doesn't break. »I was wondering where you two went off to.« 

»Sam was -«

He gets ahold of Castiel's hand, tugs at it hard. 

»Cas«, he implores urgently. »Could you, uh, leave us alone for a second?«

There's more than confusion in his eyes. An unruly feature travels over Castiel's face, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared.

»Of course«, he says and walks down the hall way to where the party is still, audibly, in full swing. 

Sam tries to stand up straight. 

He finds his chest hurts. It's tense and his breathing is becoming more labored, the longer he looks at Dean, who doesn't say anything. 

They watch each other silently. 

Sam backs away, until he feels the wall. He stretches his back against, tries to smooth it out. He's not going to cramp up and cower under Dean's gaze. 

He wishes he'd finished buttoning his shirt. It's impossible to do it now. 

»So.« His voice is shaky. »How did it go with you and -«

»Lauren«, Dean offers. »It didn't go anywhere.« His face is tense. »But maybe I just wasn't desperate enough to get laid.«

Sam's lungs just won't take in enough oxygen now. His breathing speeds up. 

»Look, Dean -«

»'Look, Dean'?« He laughs harshly. »Are you fucking kidding me now? You're not doing that. Not now!« All the pretense of calm is gone now. He shoots forward. »What the fuck, Sam! What the fuck were you thinking?!«

»I get that it must seem strange, but -«

»Strange?! Yeah, you bet it's strange! If I didn't know any better, I'd test you with some holy water, because the Sam I know, he wouldn't-«

»Wouldn't what?«

He's surprised by the defensiveness in his own voice. 

»He wouldn't take advantage of someone like this.«

»I - _what?_ « 

Sam now laughs too, which seems to set off something in Dean. He soars forward and presses his arm against Sam's chest and pushes him against the wall. 

»What exactly do you think happened in there?«, Sam asks. He's feeling light-headed. The last bit of air is pressed out of his chest. 

»I heard him, okay?« Dean hisses. He reeks of whiskey. »I heard you both. You wanna tell me that I just _misunderstood_?«

»Why do you think I took advantage of him? This... we both wanted this. He asked me to.«

Something in Dean's face falls. 

»I don't believe you.« 

»Why? You easily believe I'd pressure him into this, but you won’t believe the truth?« Sam lowers his voice until it's nothing more than a whisper. »He asked me to. He wanted this. We both did. And if you'd really listened, you'd have heard that he was hardly there against his will. You think he was in pain?«

»What did you do to him?«

»What?« Sam's laugh is hollow. »You’re really sold on the idea that I manipulated him? I didn't do anything to him! Is it so absurd to you that Cas just... wanted this? Wanted me?«

The worst isn’t that this is where Dean’s mind goes to first. It’s that Sam’s unsure if he isn’t right. 

»If you didn’t make him«, Dean says, »then something else must have happened to him, because he's never shown any shred of interest in you and -«

Sam pushes back against his brother. 

Dean stumbles backwards. He loses balance for just a second, before he's got Sam against the wall again. 

»What is it?«, Sam asks through gritted teeth. »You think I defiled him? Are you pissed you didn't get there first? That I marked and claimed him or some bullshit and now he's not your perfect untouched angel anymore? You believe in all that macho crap, don't you? Have you ever thought about him in all of this? About what he wants? You think he wants to be treated like a child, Dean?« 

»He never«, Dean repeats. »You and him never -«

»Months ago.« Sam's mouth is only inches away from Dean's. »He kissed me months ago. He asked me then, too.«

He regrets his words, when he sees Dean's eyes. The confusion and anger is completely replaced by hurt now. 

»So what?« Dean breathes just as heavily now. »You two are a thing now? You think you’re in love?«, he asks snidely. »Is that it?«

»No, Dean.« Dean's grip is only performatory now. Sam shrugs him off. »Calm down. We're not a thing. We're just-«

Sam doesn't get to explain himself any further. 

»Forget it. I don't need to hear this.« It's not a smile and not a grin. It's something else. A grimacing mess that makes Sam feel horrible and wretched. »I probably I shouldn't be so surprised.«

What is that supposed to mean. How could it all not be a surprise to Dean, when it is to him. 

»Dean -«

»Congratulations on the sex, I guess. Sounded like you guys had a fun night at least. I know how much you normally hate parties...«

He turns to leave. 

Sam grabs his arm, pulls him back. 

Dean looks at the fingers digging into his skin like they’re contagious. 

»Don't be angry with Cas, okay?«, Sam begs. 

»Why should I be angry with him?« Dean narrows his eyes. »He can do whatever he wants.«

Sam knows he shouldn't let him walk away like this, but the right words just don't want to come. Even if he knew what to say, it probably wouldn't make a nick of a difference now. 

He's fucked up, royally. 

»Shit.« 

He closes his eyes, lets his head roll into the neck of his back. 

He tries to catch his breath. 

Inside his jeans he's humiliatingly wet and cold. Both his and Cas' bodily fluids taunting him. 

It'd be easier, maybe, if he could just regret everything. 

In the background he can hear cheering and music. He tries not to wonder where Dean and Castiel are right now. Whether they’re both alone or together, talking through everything. Sam can just picture Castiel, trying to make sense of Dean's anger, when everything he's ever done was just for him. 

Sam breathes in as deeply as he can, pushes himself off the wall and wearily makes his way towards the bathroom. 

He hopes Dean is wrong, but he’s afraid that he isn’t. It does feel like he took advantage and twisted the truth around until it fit the narrative he preferred to be true. The one in which Castiel wants him, too.


End file.
